


Let Me Tell You

by biscuitysguise



Series: Dani's Haikyuu Kinkmas 2020 [8]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Dani's HQ Kinkmas 2020: Day 8 - praise kink, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Oikawa Tooru is a Little Shit, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Praise Kink, Prostate Massage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sort Of, but not as much as i was hoping, hmmmm what else, i just think it's funny that that's a tag, like., mentioned in passing just at the beginning lmao, praise kink: lite, the inherent eroticism of a massage, they r so in love wtf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biscuitysguise/pseuds/biscuitysguise
Summary: Hajime seems to blush more often than not when Tooru offers a compliment of any kind.He's more than determined to find out what it means.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Series: Dani's Haikyuu Kinkmas 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037205
Comments: 1
Kudos: 157





	Let Me Tell You

**Author's Note:**

> god this is so late bc of finals but also it ran away from me iwaoi can we pleasE CALM DOWN 
> 
> n e ways. 
> 
> pls enjoy nearly 4.5k of mostly iwaoi smut with a little bit of plot thrown in. as a treat.

“Iwa-chan, it’s not a  _ bad _ injury,” Tooru is saying as he hobbles his way off of the court. One look at his fiance’s face tells him that he doesn’t believe him in the slightest, so he tries a little more with damage control. “Okay, look. Remember the whole knee fiasco?” 

“How could I forget?” Hajime replies, completely deadpan. His hands are around Tooru’s waist, holding him upright as he sways on one leg. 

Tooru shoots him a glare before continuing. “Okay, well this is nothing compared to that.” 

“There was a mild tear in your MCL, idiot.” 

“Yeah, exactly! One little ankle twist doesn’t mean anything.” 

“And if it’s sprained?” 

“Iwa-chan.” Tooru cuts him off with a smile and a finger pressed against his lips. “It isn’t.” 

Hajime breathes a deep sigh and catches Tooru’s hand in his own, pressing a kiss to his palm. “It had better not be. I don’t want to have to tell the Argentina national team that their star setter sprained his ankle while playing a game of pick up with his high school friends.” 

Tooru laughs, wrapping his arms around Hajime’s neck and pulling him close. “The good news is that I don’t think you’ll have to.” 

“You don’t  _ think _ I’ll have to?” 

“Well, the other good news is that I injured myself with the athletic trainer for Japan’s national team on the same side of the net as me.” 

Hajime rolls his eyes, and Tooru feels a bit better than he had. It’s never easy, even with the little things like a twisted ankle or an overextended finger, not with the injury that remains prevalent in both of their minds from high school. Tooru knows in the back of his mind that his injury was the reason Hajime went to study sports medicine and become a trainer, to try and make sure nobody pulls the stupid stunts he had. 

It’s sweet, really. He can’t think of it as anything but. Hajime has always pushed him to be a better player, and apparently Tooru convinced him to be a trainer. It’s a constant game of cat and mouse between them. 

“Thank you, Hajime,” he muses, carding his fingers through his fiance’s hair. “You’re always so good to me.” 

The tips of his ears burn bright red, but he rolls his eyes through it. “Comes with the job, doesn’t it?” Hajime gripes, but there’s love in every word. “Idiot.” 

“Yeah, but I’m  _ your _ idiot.” 

“When you replace ‘idiot’ with ‘problem’, you’re absolutely correct.” 

“So mean, Iwa-chan!”

Hajime chuckles then, his fingers deftly working around Tooru’s ankle to make sure nothing more serious than a little twist had really happened. “Do you feel any pain anywhere?” 

“Mm, yeah, I think so,” Tooru replies with a wince. “Up a little bit?” 

Hajime’s hands slide up his ankle to his lower shin. “Here?” 

He shakes his head. “Up a bit more?” 

A gentle kiss is placed against his kneecap as sure fingers work around his upper calf. “Here?” 

“No, Hajime,” Tooru whispers, grabbing his fiance’s hand and dragging it up from his leg to his chest. “Right here.” 

“I… your heart? Why does your heart hurt? Are you having a heart attack?!” 

Tooru can’t help but laugh at Hajime’s sudden onset of concern. “Every time I look at you, Iwa-chan! You’re so attractive, I don’t know how you could possibly expect me to be able to keep my hands to myself through this whole game!” 

The blush that had mostly faded from Hajime’s ears returns in full force, spreading to his cheekbones. “You’re insufferable.” 

“And you’re my finance, so.” 

“Damn. Is there any way out of it?” 

“Iwa-chan!”

“Hey!” Matsukawa’s voice cuts into their little banter. “Are you two almost done? We’re in the middle of a game!” 

Tooru pretends to cry out in pain and wince his way through an explanation, “I got hurt on the court and the unbearably hot trainer is helping me through the pain!” 

“Why is his hand on your tit?” Hanamaki asks, propping an elbow up on Matsukawa’s shoulder. 

“Makki!” Tooru yelps, the back of his neck burning. “Not in public!” 

Yahaba sidles up then, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, seriously. Not in public. Get a room, you two.” 

It’s then that they both realise that Hajime’s hand is still on his chest, his fingers digging into the plush muscle of his pec slightly. He pulls his hand away as though burned, the last comment from Yahaba sending his blush over the bridge of his nose. 

Tooru should thank them, honestly. He nearly never gets to see Hajime so sensitive like this. 

The same hand that was just yanked away from his chest rests briefly on his thigh, fingers digging into the muscle there briefly as Hajime stands. He extends it to Tooru, then. “Any pain anywhere else?” he says through a smile, pressing a kiss to Tooru’s cheek as he moves away. “It’d be a shame to get back on the court just for something else to hurt.”

“Nothing hurts right now, but I’m  _ more _ than certain my thighs are going to be kind of tight after this.” 

“Are you asking for a massage?” 

Tooru replies with a wink, rolling his foot twice in a circle before stepping back onto the court. “I believe it’s my serve?” 

The three on the other side of the net groan and set down their water bottles. 

“I’m stepping all the way to the back line,” Matsukawa grumbles, Hanamaki following suit with a concentrated frown on his face. 

The ball is passed to Tooru and he accepts it, bouncing it once before catching Hajime’s arm as the others get set up. “I would appreciate that massage later, you know? If you don’t mind.” 

Hajime offers a quick roll of his eyes and a small smirk. “I don’t mind,” he murmurs, crouching down so he’s out of the line of Tooru’s serve. 

“Always so good to me, Hajime,” Tooru replies, pressing a short kiss to his temple before retreating to the serve line once more. 

The flush that had all but disappeared comes back in full force as he grumbles something about PDA, but the way his eyes flick to the ground and a small smile traces his lips… Tooru can’t help but think that there might be something else going on there. 

Interesting. 

***

They manage to make it all the way back to their apartment - well,  _ Hajime’s _ apartment, since he likes to be so specific about it - before they fall into each other’s arms once again. Not to say that they didn’t sneak a couple of kisses here and there in the locker room, (“They aren’t ‘snuck’ if you do them in plain sight and are seen by everyone, idiot!” Whatever. Makki’s just a hater.) or that they didn’t have a couple…  _ more than friendly  _ pats on the back (and increasingly lower areas) as the game progressed. But things  _ really _ kicked off once the door closed behind them. 

Hajime doesn’t waste a second in getting his hands on Tooru, digging his fingers into thick cords of muscle that are still tight despite the thorough cooldown stretches they both did. 

Tooru can’t help but gasp at the sensation, his fingers sliding into Hajime’s hair as his fiance’s hands work up his arms and into his shoulders.  _ “Fuck, _ Hajime,” he groans, “have I ever told you how perfect you are?” 

“Shut up,” Hajime grumbles in return, and he continues on like he’s completely unaffected even as Tooru can practically feel him heat up in his grasp. He works out all of the knots in his upper shoulders - leaving Tooru a breathless mess against the door - before his fingers slide down, pulling Tooru closer and working along his spine. 

“Make me,” he gasps, and he doesn’t even manage another breath before he’s being pulled into a kiss. 

Hajime’s panting for breath once they finally pull apart. “Those are dangerous words, you know,” he muses, his eyes tracing the path of Tooru’s lips, hungry for more. 

“Why do you think I said them?” 

_ “Jesus,” _ Hajime whispers, surging forward to kiss Tooru once more. His hands travel down the slightest bit so he’s cupping Tooru’s ass, pulling him impossibly closer, before sliding just a bit further so he’s holding onto his upper thighs. Tooru doesn’t even have the chance to jump before he’s being lifted into the air, automatically locking his ankles behind Hajime’s back as he’s pinned against the door. 

Hajime hoists him up into the air a little further with a more secure grip on Tooru’s thighs. The new position places Tooru’s lips just a little too high to comfortably kiss, but his neck is perfectly within range, Hajime seems to decide as he bites mark after mark into the skin there. 

Tooru keens and tugs gently on Hajime’s hair, earning himself a low growl in the process. “Oh, my  _ strong _ Hajime,” he pants, breath catching in his lungs with a particularly strong nip in the dip above his collarbone.  _ “Oh,” _ he gasps then. “Bedroom,  _ please, _ Hajime.” 

With not even a moment to waste, they’re off, heading down a path that is apparently familiar enough to Hajime that he doesn’t need to watch where he’s going, his lips still attached to Tooru’s neck. It’s not long before he’s being gently laid against a mattress, strong arms wrapped around his back to control his descent. Said strong arms then cage him in, and he can’t look away from Hajime’s features. 

“Beautiful,” Hajime murmurs as his eyes roam over Tooru underneath him. 

“Me? Have you seen yourself recently?” Tooru returns. “You’re hot as hell!”

In this position, so open and vulnerable with each other, Tooru watches as Hajime’s pupils blow wide. “Being hot and being beautiful aren’t the same thing, dumbass,” he mutters. 

“How is it that you can be calling me a dumbass and still be this attractive?” Tooru exclaims, his heart stuttering in his chest as he watches that beautiful rosy blush return to his fiance’s cheeks. “I’ll never understand it!” 

“Being attractive and being b-beautiful still aren’t the same thing,” Hajime says, albeit with a little difficulty as he stutters his way through it. And then, in quiet, uncertain Spanish;  _ “Cuando Dios inventó la belleza se inspiró en ti.” _

There’s a brief moment of silence where Tooru feels his eyes go wide and his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. He can’t help the first giggle that escapes his mouth, and the first one makes way for a steady stream, until he’s hiding his face in his hands as he laughs. 

“What?” Hajime mutters, looking more than a little embarrassed. 

“Oh,  _ Hajime,” _ Tooru continues to laugh gleefully. “Where the hell did you pick  _ that _ up?”

Hajime simply sighs and flops to the other side of the mattress, making certain that one of his arms flops across Tooru’s torso, a tiny  _ oof _ cutting into his laughter. “Duolingo,” he replies. “When you went to Argentina, I wanted to learn Spanish, so I thought--”

“Aww, my sweet Hajime wanted to learn Spanish for me?” 

“Shut the hell up. I wanted to learn Spanish before then as well, I’ll have you know.” 

“Oh, I’m certain you did,” Tooru chuckles. “Please, continue.”

“Then quit fucking interrupting me,” Hajime huffs. “So I learned Spanish as an elective in uni, and then in my second year my roommate pointed out that I could move even faster by using an app.” 

“So you used….”

“I used one called Duolingo. Apparently it’s really popular in the States. And there was one lesson that was optional that you could buy for some-odd number of gems, and it was fl-flirting.” 

Tooru can’t help but coo. “My Hajime learned how to flirt in Spanish for me?” 

“No, I wanted to use it on your teammates,” Hajime deadpans. “Of course I wanted to fucking use it on you. I wanted to see how red you would get when you saw I could flirt with you in Spanish after all of your failed attempts to get me to flirt with you in Japanese.” 

“And instead, you’re the one who turns red every time I compliment you!” Tooru calls triumphantly. “I win!” 

As predicted, the tips of Hajime’s ears begin to redden once more, visible when he leans over top of Tooru to squint at him directly. “Fuck you.” 

_ “Besame,” _ Tooru replies. He knows the word, but it feels unfamiliar in his mouth. He’s never really had occasion to use it, but if Hajime wants Spanish in bed, then that’s what he’ll get. 

“What?” 

“Oh, I bet you learned this one,” Tooru chuckles, and then flutters his eyelashes until he’s looking up at his fiance through them.  _ “Hola, guapo.” _

“Fucking--” 

“Am I wrong?” 

Hajime pouts, and it’s  _ so _ cute that Tooru almost forgets that he’s horny. “No.” 

“Awww, look at this little lip jutting out,” he says with a grin, bringing his hand up to do something he hasn’t done since they were probably about  _ seven, _ flicking at Hajime’s lower lip with a “little birdie gonna poop, poop, po--”

“I fucking hate you.” 

“You’re stuck with me!” 

“Not yet! There’s still time to get out of it!” 

Tooru snorts. “Then leave while you can, but don’t blame me when I'm taken by the time you come crawling back. I’m in high demand!”

Hajime plants a hand on Tooru’s face and pushes enough that his head sinks into the pillow. “Idiot,” he says as he stands, walking away from their bed and out of the door. 

“Hajime, wait, I didn’t mean you should actually--” 

“Kusokawa,” Hajime calls, and Tooru falls back to the bed with a giggle as the familiar nickname rings through the room. “I’m just getting an extra towel. I don’t want to mess up my sheets with massage oil.” 

“Wait, you were serious?” 

“Weren’t you?” 

“I mean,” Tooru blinks,  _ “yeah, _ but it’s not like I  _ need _ it, necessarily, I just--” 

“If you want a massage then you’re getting one,” Hajime says very matter-of-factly. “I’m gonna make you wait as long as I can before I fuck you into next Tuesday.” 

“Ooh, talk  _ dirty _ to me, Hajime!” 

There’s a bottle of massage oil thrown at his head for that one. 

***

Tooru doesn’t even make it ten minutes before the massage has him biting into the pillow cover. “Ohhhh,” he whines high in his throat. “Fuck, Hajime,  _ yes!” _

He can practically hear Hajime’s eyes rolling when he next speaks. “You would think that I would at least have a finger in you before you started moaning like that.” 

“I can’t help it!” Tooru pouts. “Your fingers are magic!” 

“They’re just as magic when they’re inside you.” 

“Shut up and let me have this, Hajime.” 

The man in question snorts and presses his weight once more into Tooru’s thighs, fingers pushing in and sliding down through tense muscle. 

“Fu-uuuck,” Tooru gasps on a stuttered breath. “Have I ever told you how much I love your fingers?” 

“Would you mind telling me how much you love  _ me, _ instead?” 

“Your fingers are attached to you, aren’t they? So, by exten -  _ oh fuck, Hajime, yes! _ \- by extension I love you too.” Tooru’s left panting into the pillow as the last pass of his fiance’s fingers leaves him breathless. “You always know where the right spots to massage are,” he manages, “and you never pass up a massage even though you totally could and I wouldn’t be mad.” 

“That’s hardly my fingers’ doing, hm?” Hajime hums, but Tooru can hear the low thrum of pleasure in his voice. “That’s more me than my fingers.” 

“Damn, did you want me to start on how much I love your di--  _ fuck!” _

In an attempt to get him to shut up, Hajime leans down to bite against Tooru’s hip, sucking a dark bruise into the area and laving over it with his tongue, leaving a whining Tooru in his wake. “I don’t think that’s necessary, honestly,” he says, moving his hands up to massage at Tooru’s ass. 

Tooru has to fight the urge to twist around and level a glare at his husband. “So mean, Hajime. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you prefer it when I--  _ ohhhh.” _ He’s cut off by a moan coming from his own mouth as Hajime slides a finger inside him. “How is it that you know me so well?” 

“How is it that you’re still fucking talking so much?” 

“Aw, does Iwa-chan want me to be quiet?” 

A smack lands on his ass, hard enough to sting but light enough not to do anything more. “It might be appreciated.” 

More room temperature oil is drizzled along his ass, leaving him breathless with anticipation. “You always fuck me so well, don’t you?” 

Another finger slides inside him, gently pressing past the tight muscle of his rim. “I like to think so. You sure seem to think so, as well.” Hajime slides his fingers in and out, testing the stretch by scissoring his fingers. He seems to relish in the gasp that it pulls from Tooru, as he does it repeatedly. “Three fingers,” he murmurs, “can you take it?” 

“Please,” Tooru replies, and there’s a subtle pressure at his rim. A full-body shudder makes its way down his spine, and he briefly clenches around Hajime’s fingers inside of him. 

A hand finds his thigh and squeezes. “Breathe for me,” Hajime reminds, sliding further in as Tooru’s walls loosen once more. “Ready?” 

“For what?” Tooru mumbles into the pillow, until his head shoots up with a silent moan on his parted lips as Hajime pets across his prostate. 

“That,” Hajime chuckles lowly behind him. “I’m gonna do it again, okay?” 

It’s all Tooru can do to nod, burying his face in the pillow once more as the pads of Hajime’s fingers brush along his most sensitive area. And again, and again. By the fifth time he’s moaning, by the sixth he’s nearly crying into the pillow at the pressure and pleasure being  _ just right, _ and by the seventh he’s pushing his ass back towards Hajime’s fingers in a silent plea for  _ more. _

“I bet you could come like this,” Hajime muses, almost like he’s not talking to Tooru at all. 

He may as well not be; Tooru’s mind is somewhere far, far away, on what feels like another plane of existence. This is the first time such careful attention has been paid to his prostate, and the gentle touch of Hajime’s fingers is exactly right to bring him to the edge of a mind blowing climax in a matter of minutes. 

“Hear that, Tooru? Come like this, and I might fuck you.” 

“Might?” is all Tooru can manage in return. 

A low chuckle, a pass of his fingers, and Tooru’s arching his back. The pleasure within his abdomen winds tighter. Another pass of Hajime’s fingers, and he’s shoved closer to the edge, his breath catching in his throat as he moans around an exhale. One final pass and his mouth is open in a silent scream as his orgasm hits him like a fucking freight train, his untouched cock shooting his release onto the towel that Hajime had laid under him at the start of their… whatever this is. 

It takes Tooru a few moments to come down from his intense high, but as soon as he does he’s babbling praise at his fiance. “So good for me, Hajime, you know me so well, you know everywhere inside of me and out both emotionally and physically, you’re always so good to me.” 

“Christ, Tooru, you just came. You can wait at least a little before I fuck you.” 

Tooru rolls over onto his back with some help from his fiance and he looks up at him through heavy lidded eyes. “And what if I want you to fuck me right now?” he practically purrs. “You’ll be a good boy and do that for me, right?” 

He’s coherent enough to watch as that blush appears on Hajime’s cheeks again, and he looks over to the side. “Y-yeah,” he stammers, and Tooru smirks. 

“Yeah? You’re my good boy, right?” 

Hajime swallows audibly and nods an affirmative. “Yes,” he murmurs quietly. 

And just like that, the dynamic between them has switched. Where Hajime had just had complete control, he is now the one with pupils blown wide, breathing harder than normal as he waits for further instruction from his lover underneath him. 

Tooru’s not one to keep him waiting. “Grab the lube, baby,” he murmurs, threading his fingers into Hajime’s hair and pulling him down into a hard and heavy kiss when he returns with the bottle in hand. “Good boy,” he hums into his fiance’s ear, holding back a giggle when Hajime gulps again. 

“Tooru…” Hajime mutters, his hips shifting and pressing into thin air, his cock heavy between his legs, a bead of precum forming at the tip.

“Sometimes it’s hard to believe this is all for me,” Tooru chuckles, wrapping his fingers around the base of Hajime’s cock and giving a dry stroke just to watch Hajime’s eyes flutter closed, even if only for a second. “What nation did I save to deserve you?” 

“Shut up,” Hajime whispers in reply, his breath hitching in his ungodly broad chest. 

“Hajime,” Tooru smiles,  _ “besame. Besame, mi amor.” _

“You know,” Hajime pants, “life would be a lot easier if you fucking told me what you were saying.” 

“Kiss me, you fucker.” 

Hajime lets out a low string of laughter at that. “Oh, is that all?” The hand that he mostly rid of the massage oil finds its way into Tooru’s hair, cupping the back of his head as he leans down to press their lips together. 

Kissing Hajime is like the tide. 

Sometimes, when Tooru got overwhelmed in his early days in Argentina, he would pull up videos of the beach and put in the headphones that he had taken from Hajime and had “accidentally forgotten” to return. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore would bring him comfort beyond words; it would bring him back to a simpler time, when he and Hajime would travel to the beach and spend a day in the sand and the cold water. 

The tides would have time to come in, go back out,  _ and  _ come in once more before the two of them were done with a day there. Tooru remembers the push and pull, how the waves would land on top of each other and fight to reach the shore. He remembers how the sand would pull away under the force of the current, getting dragged out to sea. 

Tooru is more than willing to let himself go when Hajime kisses him. He’s more than fine with playing the role of the sand, losing himself in the tide that is his lover and getting pulled out to sea. 

And lose himself he does, letting the thrumming of his heart in his chest take him away. 

It’s some minutes later when they finally pull apart, panting for breath, lips bruised and starting to swell from their kiss. 

Tooru hardly has time to notice the blunt pressure at his entrance before Hajime’s pushing in, already lubed and sliding in with ease. Tooru lets his fingers dig into Hajime’s shoulders, gasping in a sharp inhale once Hajime’s completely sheathed inside. “Fuck,  _ Hajime, _ you’re so big inside me,” he manages, his brow furrowing. 

Hajime’s thumb smooths out the creases in his forehead. “You take me so well.” 

“No, no,” Tooru is quick to cut him off, “this is about  _ you. _ You fuck me so well, Hajime, why don’t you show me how good you are at what you do?” 

Hajime chuckles and tucks his face into Tooru’s chest, rolling his hips forward as he does. He expertly shifts back, and then thrusts forward again, slow and easy, and while it’s… nice, it’s not really what Tooru’s looking for. 

“Hajime,” he sings, fingers playing at the base of his neck. “Hajime, fuck me like you mean it!” 

Another low laugh, followed by a brutal snap of Hajime’s hips, and  _ oh god _ if Tooru hadn’t come already he probably would have just then. As it is, his cock is still hard and dripping in sympathy, and he’s probably not going to last a  _ whole _ lot longer if Hajime keeps that up. 

And sure enough, each snap of Hajime’s hips comes harder, until Tooru’s sure his ass is bruised, and that he’ll feel it for  _ days _ after this night. Each thrust sends him shifting up the bed just a little bit, until Hajime grabs a hold of his hips and drags him back down onto his cock instead, sliding deeper than he had previously. His hands slip in the massage oil until he’s deep enough that there will definitely be bruises from the pads of his fingers decorating Tooru’s fair skin. 

“Ha-aaah, Hajime,  _ please,” _ Tooru pants, “you’re so perfect for me, Hajime!” 

“Do you have an end goal here?” Hajime asks, mostly holding back a growl in his voice. 

He whines and tugs on his fiance’s hair, but he smiles with a light “Come for me?”

Hajime immediately attaches his lips to Tooru’s already marked up neck, pressing deep inside as he nears his own climax. A low moan builds in his throat when he takes Tooru’s dick into his hand, feeling him tighten at the contact, and they end up orgasming at nearly the same time. Tooru spills onto his own chest, and Hajime pulls out moments before his orgasm to climax against his entrance. 

They collapse against each other, breathing heavily in the aftermath. 

Hajime uses the towel that’s underneath Tooru to wipe up the mess around his entrance, careful with his puffy rim, and then cleans the cum off of his stomach. Tooru hums contentedly while he watches his fiance work, discarding the towel in their hamper. He places the lube and the oil back on the bedside stand before heading to the bathroom with a significant glance at Tooru. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tooru calls in reply, hauling himself out of bed and into the bathroom. He definitely needs a shower after all the massage oil. 

It’s quiet between them, a comfortable silence, until Tooru breaks it at some point while Hajime is shampooing his hair, fingernails methodically scraping against his scalp in a fashion that’s sure to put him to sleep if he doesn’t do something to keep himself awake. 

“So,” he murmurs, “praise kink, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up,” comes Hajime’s response, and he grins. 

It’s definitely something to explore later. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> As a note:   
> • “Cuando Dios inventó la belleza se inspiró en ti” means “when God invented beauty, he was inspired by you”  
> • “besame” means “kiss me”   
> • “hola guapo” means “hello handsome”  
> • “besame, mi amor” is “kiss me, my love”  
> God bless Duolingo and their horribly cheesy and over the top pickup lines. I will never forget u Duolingo 
> 
> I'm @biscuitysguise (nsfw) or @biscuityskies (sfw, main) on twt if ur interested in coming to chat! 
> 
> Also I'm aware i am... MANY days behind on this challenge but 1) i'm working to catch up and 2) nobody knows how long I'll make it anyways so!! fun and exciting, I'm keeping ALL of us on our toes!! 
> 
> I hope to see u soon with the next prompt lol


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